


Ben, Learning

by siriuspiggyback



Series: Closer I Am To Fine [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Gen, Insecurity, No Incest, Sibling Love, They/Them Pronouns for Klaus Hargreeves, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: If overstaying your welcome is a sport, then Ben Hargreeves is the undisputed champion.Or, Ben Hargreeves has been dead for 13 years, and he is only now learning how to be a brother.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Everyone, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Ben Hargreeves
Series: Closer I Am To Fine [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681714
Comments: 37
Kudos: 326





	Ben, Learning

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think that there are any specific warnings for this one, just some unhealthy thinking patterns and bad decision making. so, y'know. normal hargreeves stuff. enjoy!

If overstaying your welcome is a sport, then Ben Hargreeves is the undisputed champion.

Even as a child, he had a tendency to linger, to hang around, quiet enough that his existence could be mostly overlooked. He often found himself the odd man out. That's not to say that he was ignored; his siblings often invited him to join, involved him in their fun, but usually he was joining in with a closer pair. If Five suggested they hang out, it was because he was already with Vanya, or if Klaus pulled him into some scheme, it was one they were already planning with Diego. He got along pretty well with everyone, in the way that quiet people do. Then his siblings were leaving him behind, and he was holding on to the past too tight, going along with Luther on missions as if they were still the Academy, as if it was still the golden years of being a team, a family.

And then he was dying, and he thought that was it, no more clinging on, the end, except _no_ , Ben found a way to cling on even in death.

It’s easy to justify it. Klaus is the personification of an implosion, and has always needed someone pinning them to reality, to stop them floating away entirely. Without Ben, who knew where Klaus would be now. Even with Ben by their side, they have ended up a patchwork person, trauma layered upon trauma, half healed scars picked open. He could never leave Klaus. Someone has to be the sensible one, the one to remind Klaus how many pills they had taken, the one to point out who seemed shady and who seemed trustworthy. Klaus has always been too trusting, and Ben has learned to balance that, to be suspicious and cynical. He stayed vigilant whilst Klaus was spinning out of control. It wasn’t much, but it was all that he could do in the face of his sibling’s addiction.

Now, though. Now, Klaus is sober. Not the sickly kind of sober that they unwillingly reached in court mandated rehab, either. Klaus is shining-glowing-healthy, the sharpness of their ribs finally hidden under layers of fat, pale cheeks alight with a natural flush. Sure, they still have shadows under their eyes after too many nightmares, and they still battle their cravings and PTSD, but they are slowly, surely, winning the fight. Their recovery is a wobbly, fragile thing, but every day Klaus makes the choice to be better. Ben is so proud he thinks his heart would explode, if he had one.

It isn’t just Ben who looks out for Klaus, these days. The siblings have come together, a family once more. Luther listens to Klaus with earnest compassion, even when Klaus makes it hard to engage with them, pushing people away with crude jokes. No more are the impatient remarks and easy dismissals of the past. Everyone is making an effort to be kinder, to understand each other.

In these new days of togetherness, Ben finds that he just isn’t needed anymore.

Everyone still makes an effort to include him in the family, but he knows that it is nostalgia at best, and obligation at worst. Every occasion they spend time with their siblings, Klaus is under pressure to make Ben corporeal, something that drains Klaus of energy fast, no matter how sober they are. Sometimes Klaus can’t manifest him at all, and the siblings never quite hide their disappointment well enough, and Klaus shrinks into themself, ducking their head and hunching their shoulders. Ben tells them that it isn’t their fault, but it’s never enough to erase the shame from their face.

Klaus has been busy. They still talk, and Ben still tries to be supportive, but he can’t quite be there for Klaus like he has been in the past. For once, Ben wasn’t there with Klaus, and can’t know just how much trauma Klaus went through in Vietnam. Klaus alludes to things, but never tells him the bad stuff, although some of it slips out unintentionally, in the nightmares and flashbacks where Klaus isn’t quite sure where they are. Ben does his best to comfort them. Often, though, Klaus ends up seeking reassurance from their living siblings. Ben can’t be that for Klaus. He can’t hold them and warm them, can’t let them relax to the steady sound of his heart. He’s glad that Klaus has people for that now. Really, he is. He tries not to feel bitter about it.

So Ben knows that he isn’t really needed anymore.

It’s more than that, though. In these last few months of stability, he has watched Klaus mourn, watched them go through the pain and agony and come out of it- not accepting, maybe, because Klaus certainly hasn’t given up on finding Dave, but something close to it, like they have found peace with what happened. It’s made him realise… Klaus had never mourned Ben. There had been no grief, no process, no eventual, rocky sort of calm. There was only the brief, consuming horror of Ben’s death, and then it was back to normal, back to Klaus and Ben, the same old exasperated dynamic that they had grown used to. 

Ben hadn’t been trying to hurt Klaus, but maybe he had done so anyway. Maybe this holding on has become something that pulled Klaus back, something that prevents them from truly moving on. 

With this realisation in mind, Ben has been withdrawing.

He’s tried to be subtle, slowly pulling back inch by inch, carefully not fast enough that Klaus might feel abandoned. More and more, he spends time away from Klaus, from the big old house that they are living in again. He doesn't mind it. It is easier, in a way. Maybe ghost’s aren’t meant to still be with the living. Maybe this is the natural order of things. When he leaves, he can allow himself to drift, to go numb and hazy. Maybe he is finding peace, too. 

When he returns sometime later (How long has it been?) when the sky is dark, he expects to find everyone in their beds, the hallways empty and quiet except for ghosts like him. 

So finding his siblings slumped around the living room, all in various stages of falling asleep, is one hell of a surprise.

Naturally, it is Klaus who notices his entrance. 

_“Ben!”_ gasps Klaus, voice loud enough that Diego, who had been dozing off, jerks upright, unlike Vanya, who continues to snore lightly.

Alarmed, Ben asks, “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“Yes, something happened!” says Klaus, shakily standing up, a blanket clutched over their shoulders, “Our brother disappeared, you asshole!”

Ben blinks. Counts the room. “They’re all here, though?”

Luther, eyes focusing on Ben as he slips into corporeality, advises, “They’re talking about you.”

“Me?” says Ben. “I just… I went for a walk.”

“A walk?” parrots Klaus. “It’s been _three days.”_

_Three days._

“Oh,” says Ben. That’s- That’s bad, probably. He has been aware that he drifts sometimes, when he would leave Klaus behind, but he’s never drifted for this long before. How did he lose three days?

"Yeah. Oh," says Klaus, although some of the fight has drained from their voice. 

Ben looks at them, really looks at them. Klaus looks pale, eyes heavy, jaw tight. The slightly frantic glint in their eye is reminiscent of how they got after a nightmare. The rest of the siblings don't look great either. They all look vaguely disheveled, more tense and nervous that he's seen them since apocalypse week. Ben swallows. "I'm sorry," he says. The whole point of his gentle distancing was to help Klaus, not to hurt them. "I didn't realize."

Klaus shakes their head stubbornly. "It's not just this one time, though. You've been acting weird for weeks."

"I- No, I haven't."

"You're avoiding me," says Klaus. "If- If I've done something _wrong,_ then I'm sorry-"

"No! No, you haven't done anything wrong," Ben rushed to reassure them.

"Then _what?"_ Klaus snaps.

"Can't you just leave it alone?"

"Not if it means I lose you!"

The words are hurtled out into the space between them, and even Klaus seems surprised by them, because they clap a hand over their mouth like it is beyond their control. The silence seems even more stark in contrast to the loudness of it. The rest of the family look between them warily, none of them familiar with dramatic confessions of affection like this. 

And Ben.

Ben feels like a massive idiot.

The Hargreeves have never been the type to voice their love aloud, and Klaus is no exception, so Ben has never expected any explicit confirmation. As children, it was easy enough to read between the lines. It was written in the way that Klaus would crawl into his bed after a bad training session, and how Diego pulled his punches in sparring, how Five gave him book recommendations and how Vanya shared quietly amused looks with him when their louder siblings were being stupid. But then Ben was dead, and there was just Klaus, and Klaus was self destructing with Ben as their witness. No more midnight comfort, because Klaus found all the comfort they needed in the form of pills. Their interactions boiled down to snippy remarks and sarcastic quips, and on bad days, cutting comments aimed with precision.

At some point, it seems, Ben has forgotten that they used to be _friends._

"I thought," he says tightly, "that I might be holding you back."

"Holding me back," Klaus repeated, voice flat.

Ben shrugs helplessly. "I guess- I mean, I just thought maybe it was time that I move on, y'know? And you could finally… finally grieve, and get over it, and it might be _healthier_ that way."

Klaus laughs. The sound holds no trace of amusement. "Right."

With a sinking sense of desperation, Ben fumbles on. "I just kind of realised, it's not normal, y'know? When people die, you're supposed to- go through a _process,_ or something, and you never did, and it made me think that…" His own explanation sounding increasingly weak in his ears, he was sure that he would be blushing, if he were still alive.

"Do you really think," Klaus says slowly, "that any of us give a _shit_ about being _normal?"_

"Um. No?"

Five sighs from his spot in the armchair. "You really are a bigger idiot than I realized."

"Oh, thanks," Ben says dryly.

"No, I mean it," says Five, voice disinterested as ever. "In what world would Klaus be better off without you? I'm pretty sure that they don't have a modicum of common sense on their own."

Klaus puffs up, but after a moment of consideration, admits, "Yeah, that's fair. The first time I found myself without you, I decided to stick around in the Vietnam war for ten months."

"Hold on," says Allison, "ten months? You were there for-"

"And I stand by that choice!" Klaus barrels on.

Ben finds himself laughing a little. He didn’t expect to laugh today, but here he is, laughing all the same. “I guess you guys are right,” he says.

“Of course,” says Five, the _because I’m always right_ going unsaid.

“I know we bicker a lot, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, man,” says Klaus, only stumbling over the word slightly, but Ben knows them, knows just how much that word means to them.

Ben shuffles his feet. “Yeah. I, uh. I love you, too. Obviously.”

Klaus’ smile grows sunny and warm. “Okay. So, we’re cool? You’re not going anywhere?”

“Nah,” says Ben. “Guess I’m sticking around.”

“And it’s not just for me, right?” Klaus adds, smile falling slightly. “I don’t want to stop you from finding eternal peace or whatever.”

Rolling his eyes, Ben says, “I heard it’s kind of overrated.”

“So, everything’s okay, then?” Luther asks tentatively, always a little unsure of himself in emotionally delicate situations.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Sorry for worrying you all.”

Luther says, “It’s okay,” whilst Diego says the opposite.

When Luther shoots him a glare.

“What?” says Diego, playfully defensive. “It’s been three days! I feel like he owes us. Y’know, maybe he can do the laundry for a week or something.”

“Uh, but then I have to keep him corporeal whilst he does it,” pouts Klaus.

“Diego,” Luther says, and it’s not stern in an _‘I am Number One’_ way, just in a big brother way.

Diego heaves a sigh. “Yeah, whatever, I guess we’re good.”

“Okay, can we get a group hug going, so that I can finally go to bed?” Allison says with a wry smile at Ben.

The atmosphere goes quietly, cautiously strange, the siblings glancing between each other, as if assessing whether anyone will initiate the hug - and really, Ben can’t even remember the last time he was hugged, but that’s a something he would rather not think about - before, finally, Klaus says, “Come here, asshole,” and Ben finds himself tugged roughly into his sibling’s arms. Allison is quick to follow, and Luther after her, with Diego squeezing his shoulder and Five patting his elbow with a vaguely disgusted look on his face. Ben, for the first time in a long time, feels warm.

Vanya gives a particularly loud snore.

The hug dissolves, Luther murmuring, “I’ll carry her up to bed,” because that’s the sort of thing that has become normal in this family, and for the first time, Ben feels like he might be part of that normality. 

Klaus lets the connection fizzle out (and they look truly exhausted, probably shouldn’t have been using their powers in the first place) and says, “Hey, wanna stay with me tonight?” It’s said with a casual air, but Ben knows them too well to be fooled. In their eyes, Ben can see a shadow of anxiety, as if Ben might disappear the moment he’s out of their sight.

“Always,” says Ben, and he hopes that Klaus knows just how much he means it. 

If not…

Well, Ben thinks, he will just have to prove it to them. One day at a time.


End file.
